Serpents in Eden
by Mandy2
Summary: Draco Malfoy is furious when Ginny Weasley publishes a startling fictional exposé whose antagonist resembles him just a lot, so he sends his friend Blaise to fix it. This turns out to be one of Draco's less brilliant ideas.
1. One

Disclaimer: None mine. Jenn Sweet is the alter ego of Jessica Darling, who is actually a character in Megan McCafferty books entitled Sloppy Firsts and Second Helpings, but any resemblance to her after her place as a sarcastic writer is purely coincidental. However, do pick up those books if you're looking for something to read. After all, a poem in the first book inspired the idea that inspired the idea that inspired the fic, and, well, a situation in the first book as well. Megan Jones is of HPM.

A/N: Dean Thomas rumors as the Half-Blood Prince can be dispelled (ha!) through J.K. Rowling's website in which therein she says that Dean's family background will not make it into the books due to her plot's need to emphasize Neville's background.

* * *

**_Malfoy's Apartment_**

"I'm going to sue her!" Draco Malfoy roared. "I'm going to sue her because it is blatantly obvious that I am the antagonist in this book of hers. Serpents In Eden, what sort of name is that?"

"A name that explains the book very simply. Boy meets girl. Boy and girl get along. Stupid girl gets tempted by the proverbial apple contained within the serpent's grasp, and stupid girl gets both herself and boy ostracized from society," Blaise Zabini replied flippantly to his friend. "The papers are predicting it will be the largest fictional exposé in the history of the magical press."

"I suppose she goes into rather great detail about the proverbial apple." Draco muttered of his ex-girlfriend, Ginny Weasley.

True, the fact that she AND that ruddy half-blood Dean Thomas had both been ostracized from their tower had been a bit of a hyperbole, but Thomas, who had come to discover his true magical breeding through quite dramatic circumstances, had withdrawn entirely in the second half of his last year at Hogwarts. He was apparently making it on both sides of the spectrum, milking the tortured artist routine to the utmost degree, and had even created the cover for Serpents In Eden. Obviously, since then, the idiot had made up with Ginny. And obviously, as the heiress to the Weasley legacy and Gryffindor's star Chaser, no such isolation had been doted onto Ginny, but there had been quite the awkward six months leading up to her brother and his friends and enemies' graduation.

As for Draco, there were no sentiments attached to the littlest redhead, who, in spite of her many attractive qualities, had been a victory of the decreasingly-funded Malfoy heir in that his complicated mind games had come to a most surprising and most satisfactory conclusion.

The primary reason for this overwhelming sense of satisfaction, both Blaise and their other friend Theodore Nott concluded quite amusedly, had to have been the fact that out of the three, Malfoy had been the least clever. Fortunately for him, he had to lackeys who made him look like a genius in comparison.

Nott had been a little too clever in that he got all too heavily involved in the dealings of the Dark Arts, a crime for which he was convicted and punished before the three had hit the American drinking age. Also by that time, the spoiled Malfoy and the indifferent Zabini had managed their ways out of the "ugly tattoo" or the "useless pain" (guess which label belonged to whom).

"She doesn't even allude to my talents in Charms and Transfiguration, unless they're utilized to antagonize people!"

Nonetheless, Zabini would be the last to say that they were good people. Zabini, at best, considered Malfoy a "poufy playboy with a sedated sugar mama but stingy pockets", and Malfoy considered Zabini a "working stiff with no sense of humor but all too much cunning". They were a Harold and Kumar-esque pair.

"Oh, that money-hungry bitch is going to have a field day with this one!" Malfoy moaned, upturning a silver photo frame as he stormed about his apartment. Blaise summoned the photo, which featured Draco, his ex-wife, and his mother.

"Who, Pansy?"

"No, Narcissa. Well, both of them."

"How do you even know about this?" Blaise flipped through some documents Draco had filed on his desk pertaining to the as-of-yet-unreleased novel.

"Edina's husband held many stocks in her publisher's office and a secretary informed her of it." Draco pouted. "But I had to find this out from Cherish, who was a little more willing to part with the information. Edina was afraid of upsetting me."

"The fact that you are sleeping with a rich woman and her rich daughter is despicable, you know that?" Blaise groaned, falling back onto Draco's bed.

"At the moment, the fact that I slept with Weasley at all appears to be more despicable, in light of the consequences." Draco snapped. "I mean, everybody knows that the bloody Harry Potter years are keen subject material for all Hogwarts-based fiction. And the dirty bitch is so closely associated with him, they're sure to jump all over it."

"Has either Cherish or Edina," Blaise began, shuddering at the thought of both poorly selected monikers, "Read the book yet?"

"Cherish has. She's rather enamored with it—she was a Hufflepuff." That explained why Draco's favor of Edina had been so prevalent of late. "She's under the impression that the antagonist is a generalized version of Slytherin men, but I figured it out in a heartbeat."

"Is it any good?"

"Are you going to trust a Hufflepuff? Cherish, Merlin love her, isn't brighter than a rainbow-colored stuffed-parrot, and rather like a parrot, has always been fascinated with shiny things." Draco muttered, and Blaise looked up. Draco was now in his silk and velvet lounging wear, which meant he was really going to sulk. As expected, he sighed dramatically. "Now what am I going to do?"

"Oh, please." Blaise replied, and Draco looked hurt.

"My name, and the name of our house, good sir, is being dragged through the mud, and I'll have you know that your indifference is really starting to bug me." Draco whined. "Besides, your beloved potions master will probably be under investigative measures after the release of this tabloid tome, considering all that went on in our years." It was true. As a quietly brilliant potions student and an indifferent sort of Slytherin, after the O.W.Ls, Blaise had become quite the year's favorite for the potions master. However, he sighed. "Draco, I'm sure Dumbledore was perfectly aware of what was going on. He'd have stopped it if he had wanted to, but in case you are forgetting, he was battling the Second Coming of the Dark Lord at the moment."

"So do you mean you aren't going to do anything about this?" Draco demanded shrilly. "You're my legal council, for crying out loud!"

"I work for the Prophet, Draco! I occasionally produce an article, but I mainly oversee photo and ink potion production." Blaise admittedly did much more, but his point was clear. "And I cannot believe you made me owl in sick for your petty whining. The very least you could do is produce a copy of this book but your insufficient and insufferable complaints—"

A copy of the book sailed past Blaise's head.

"Not with the final graphics, but informative nonetheless." Draco sniffed. "And if I'm so bloody inconvenient—" He didn't finish his sentence. He merely huffed into the next room, leaving the curtains to fly after him spectacularly.

Blaise rolled his eyes. His best friend sure was a nutter. "What is it that you expect me to do about all of this?" He called out after his friend.

Draco's head appeared between the folds of the curtains. "Something! Anything!"

Blaise rolled his eyes once more as his friend disappeared.

* * *

**_Somewhere in Diagon Alley_**

"Word is you've sent Malfoy into a right tizzy. One of his girlfriends showed him an early copy of your book and since then he's been sulking." Megan Jones exclaimed excitedly to the slim author of Serpents In Eden.

The redhead rolled her eyes. "Draco has always been rather dramatic."

Megan was an enthusiastic Hufflepuff that had been a year above Ginny in school, but was a little less mature than Ginny's other companion for her pre-book-signing lunch date, Jenn Sweet, a Ravenclaw who had been two years below Ginny. They both represented the wide spectrum of interested readers. Megan, with Jenn's assistance in reading between the lines, was in charge of the book's publicity, and Jenn Sweet was Ginny's editor and confidante.

"At least you're not idealistic in thinking the basis of Candace Bowen _is_ entirely innocent." Jenn defended Ginny's work immediately. "If that's what he's complaining about."

"Oh, no, Draco is only concerned with how he appears." Ginny drawled. "I feel bad for him really. His fortunes were secretly reduced to near nothing, he was still forced to go on with his arranged marriage, and now he is 24, divorced, and the plaything of the idle rich."

"Oh, boo-hoo." Jenn rolled her eyes. "Have you considered the publisher's offer?"

What was strange was that Jenn doubled as her editor and her agent.

Megan and Jenn looked very excited as Ginny sighed. "Yes, I've considered it. And if my experiences on the tour are as interesting as I expect them to be, then yes, I will write a sequel."

Silence. Her friends' reactions were mixed at best.

"What do you mean, 'as interesting as I expect them to be'?" Megan demanded. "Of course they're going to be interesting! You're going to be propelled into the spotlight and right into that society again as the little lamb they all want to slaughter for her wool!" The implied pun was noted.

"And it's not like this is an entirely autobiographical work, Ginny. You left off at the end of Candace's sixth year, and you could write about her adventures in the last year she's got left!" Jenn protested, her business side taking over. "You're at the helm of a hit, and why not ride the wave?"

"I may not have been a writer all of my life, Jenn, but somehow I'd feel like pushing a sequel would be selling out. If I don't have the inspiration, I don't have the inspiration. I can go back to my oh-so-boring desk job in the AUROR DEPARTMENT or I could possibly write my next hit. But I'm not going to push it and neither are any of you." Ginny said with a tone of finality. "Is there anything else we can discuss?"

"Reviews." Megan got right to business for once, but chances were she was avoiding any more confrontation. "_Witch Weekly_ loved it."

"That was expected." Jenn explained. "They eat this stuff right up. Your book falls within two popular genres right now- The Harry Potter Hogwarts Years and the Purebloods' Glamourous Lives."

"Oh, goody." Ginny retorted sarcastically. "What about the legitimate press?"

"Don't disregard _Witch Weekly_. They're a portion of your key demographic." Jenn snapped. "Surprisingly, _The Genealogy Times_ was very impressed. Apparently, Pansy Parkinson did not notice the resemblance between herself and Tamara Seneca. Her friends, according to her review, have also read pre-released copies and adore it."

"_The Quibbler_, of course, we've had in the bag," Megan began, but Ginny held a hand up to interrupt.

"Luna," Ginny said with an heir of great importance, "Is a strange friend. Fiercely loyal but also eccentrically opinionated, and I'm glad she liked it--and could put up with it. Frankly, those times were the worst for our friendship, mainly because if I had listened to her in the first place, none of this ever would have happened."

"Well, when you get rich, you must remember to thank her." Megan chirped. "_Potion Pressed_, which is an American literary magazine ("I know what it is, Megan!"), is the leader of the Stateside accolades, and the Flourish and Blotts newsletter highlighted it as a must-have, Scrhivenshaft's Quill Shop, which rarely, I remind you, carries books, carries the entire line, paperback, hardback and travel-sized, a great compliment...and last but not least, the _Prophet_."

Ginny held her breath. She knew each of the literati staff at the Culture Section at the _Propet_, at least by name and reputation. And she'd been crossing her fingers in hopes that Blaise Zabini, who had been part of the terrible Slytherin gang, would not get ahold of this assignment. He was not a regular staffer, but they relied upon him when they were especially swamped, and in light of explanatory articles of current fiction trends, the Culture Section staff had been rumored to be swamped with work. While Pansy Parkinson and her crowd of shallow bimbos may not have been able to recognize the analyzations of their teenage alter egos, Blaise was clever--clever enough to understand, unlike Draco, exactly how Ginny had felt through the whole ordeal.

Even Jenn barely knew what that was exactly.

"I've just gotten it in, actually. The PR department has collaged all of your reviews for the next advert and for some posters they're going to have set up in Flourish and Blotts, and I hadn't had a chance to look over it." Megan thumbed through it. "Oh."

"What, what?" Jenn demanded in a panicked voice, and she snatched the paper away from Megan, and she stopped as suddenly as Megan had. "Oh."

"WHAT?" Ginny demanded. "Are you going to read it or what?"

Both knew about Ginny's concern about Blaise Zabini, although they had grouped this concern in with the concern about Pansy Parkinson.

"Blaise Zabini reviewed it." Jenn said finally.

"And?" Ginny cried. "What did he think?"

"We haven't gotten that far. It's still so much of a shocker that he reviewed it at all." Megan explained, and Ginny shut her eyes in frustration.

"Will the two of you stop being girls and just read it?" She snapped, putting her forehead down on the table's cool surface.

("But we are girls!") Jenn read through the review, which appeared to be quite long judging by how long it took her to read, and by the end there was a smile on her face. Ginny and Megan beamed too.

"Not yet have the perils of substance abuse seen so often in the Muggle world reached magical fiction, especially in such an honest and realistic voice that is Weasley's. Although some snootier and shallower readers may dismiss this work as defectively existential, Weasley's tale of a hopelessly innocent girl who manages to isolate herself and her boyfriend all through the temptations of the glamorous, corrupt and secretive world of wealthy purebloods and with the help of a toxic lover, seems so grand but so morose it might just be real. The disintegration of pureblood youth seems to lie in their boredom and their mixed messages about what exactly dirties their reputations, but Weasley does not preach and does not bore. The ending appears to be semi-tragic, and leaves hopes for more." Jenn read excitedly. "He continues on about your word choices and syntax and whatnot, but...this is bloody brilliant! You've swept them, Ginny. You've swept them off your feet and you may just be the new voice that Little Red Books--hell, the whole market--you may just be the new voice that'll refresh and reawaken the literary market!"

"I wouldn't go that far..." Ginny said, blushing. She tried not to scowl in confusion about Blaise's review. She read over it as Megan and Jenn toasted themselves with glee, and looked for a sign that Blaise had seen an echo of the lost little girl that had written the book.

Maybe he wasn't as clever as she had thought. They, Draco and Blaise, had always said that Theodore Nott had been the clever one. But as Candace Bowen said of Theodore's fictional alter ego, Laurence Waltraud, "The clever, at times of war, are the so indifferent that they achieve a constant virginity, regardless of the penetration of evil.". In her book, Xavier Francis had understood what Candace Bowen had said. Maybe Ginny had given the boy too much credit.

That's fiction for you.

* * *

**_Back at Malfoy's_**

"This is _not_ what I meant when I asked you to help!" Draco whined, and Blaise looked up from the potion he was brewing. Blaise must've looked confused, because Draco held up a copy of the Cultural Section as though to remind his friend of his damage.

"It's good, Draco. And it's fairly fictional." Fairly being key. Blaise was still pouring over his copy. He had long since returned the borrowed copy in favor of the _Prophet's_ extended version. He'd been asked to do more interpretations of the work for a collected guideline for a new Hogwarts Genealogy class, in addition to creating text-related questions for Ginny at an upcoming WWN Press Conference.

"What do you mean, it's fairly fictional? The antagonist is a beautiful blonde boy who toys with the affections of the protagonist, who is a redheaded sister of a bajillion brothers!" Draco continued. "And the drugs, and the alcohol, and the parties--for Merlin's sake, Blaise, some of this dialogue may be direct quotes!"

"In some ways, Ginny's experiences predominate the plot. However, some of them may be indulgences in order to further the story, and they push as far as to being preachy without touching the line. It's foreshadowing for what will happen if wealthy purebloods aren't instructed properly." Blaise read off of his notes. He had intended for some of these comments to make the paper, but some of the notes were too personal to be just another reviewer's opinion. "I mean, she wasn't ostracized at Hogwarts."

Draco narrowed his eyes. "Maybe you're right. But there are quite a few coincidences, if you know what I mean."

"You're being a bit sensitive, Draco. I mean, maybe it's because it's your ex-girlfriend's book and she's looking to come out of this wealthier than you are now-"

"Don't you dare say I'm jealous!"

"Because you're not." "Because I'm not!"

Draco's eyes narrowed even further and then he nodded. "Fine. If Parkinson can't see what a cow she's been made out to be, and if you can't see how ridiculously boring your alter ego is, then maybe I am being sensitive."

Blaise scowled, reaching behind him for his copy of the novel. "Am I really...boring?"

Draco turned, and grinned. "I guess I'll be getting to her book signing. After all, what way to play up my new nice guy image by mending bridges with my blasphemous ex?"

As he left Blaise, Draco heard the furious flipping of pages.

* * *

**_Flourish & Blotts_**

Ginny was going through her book signing in a daze. She was suffering from some sort of disease all fiction writers must have when they've convinced themselves their stories are, in the very least, partially true. When she'd started all of this, her story was only fractionally true and now her belief in it was growing exponentially. The disappointment, she discovered, was the worst symptom of the disease.

There was a picture taken of her for the _Prophet_, which reminded her of her fateful introduction to Draco Malfoy. Everybody, from her mother's old tea buddies, to purebloods, to giddy little girls and their giddy little mothers, to homosexuals to genealogy enthusiasts both scholarly and idealistic, was excited about the book. She plastered on a rather fake smile, and hoped that a further explanation of Blaise Zabini's review would be published alongside the photo, but there would probably be no such luck. She knew already that her book was being studied by a panel of experts in the fields of genealogy and literature, and that her upcoming WWN press conference would allow her to give some of her own feedback--more for the literatary study guides than the genealogy. In a recent quick interview with _The Genealogy Times_, she'd been asked how her own background played into the final product, to which she had replied, "Mr. Zabini's review pegged the nail on the head when he said this book was about the mixed messages that are sent to the pureblooded youth of today. Some are told who they associate with and who they reproduce with and who they are better than due to their lineage and other privileges that usually accompany their lineage are what keeps them pure and clean. But often they are not taught the importance of good character, of pure hearts and clean moral fiber. Corny as it may sound, those traits were the ones emphasized in my upbringing, not my friends, or who I chose to reproduce with, or who I was better than due to my lineage. That's how my background played into the final product."

Her reply, in its length and formal diction, reminded her greatly of her History of Magic essays.

Thus far, Malfoy had managed to make quite the publicity stunt of himself, no doubt landing him on the front of the rumors section of every less than legitimate publication about the ambiguous connection between himself and the book's antagonist, Tyrone Avalon. She'd rolled her eyes and had nearly stuck a fork in his thigh when the next set of fans came through-ironically and awkwardly Draco's ex-wife and her friends. Ginny confirmed her beliefs in karma just then.

The line never seemed to end, and she'd been at it since 1 o'clock. She had been under the belief that Hogwarts students were in school but so many had managed to get down here-and what with her busy schedule, Ginny was probably doing the signing on a Hogsmeade weekend. By 5:15, she was about ready to go as the last few fans floated away, when an out-of-breath and very weary-looking Blaise Zabini appeared out of the Floo.

Ginny couldn't say who was more shocked at his arrival- Blaise or herself. They stared at each other for a moment, when finally Ginny noted that a copy of her book was in his hand and she stammered an offer to sign it.

Blaise approached her slowly, complimenting the jacket, which depicted the backside of an anonymous pale body, wrapped only in a serpent of primarily silver and gold, with red and green spots. It was a watercolor with intentions to make the flush red and green spots appear to be the apples. Ginny explained that it had been her idea but Dean's talent, and did Blaise remember Dean?

By the look on his face, Ginny could tell that Blaise had read between the lines, and he seemed to be horrified at the thought of their brief time sharing adolesence.

Blaise was reeling. He did not yet understand the extent of her double meanings and metaphors and similes, but he knew he wanted to understand them. But before he knew it, they had come to talking about what he was doing with his life.

Apparently, Malfoy had visited earlier and she found him to be a vapid socialite and had hoped that Blaise was doing better. Was he still dating that girl, Tracey? No, not exactly. Was he still interested in potions? Why, yes, that was his primary reason for employment with the _Prophet_. Oh, then, did he know Colin? Yes, and he was a very big fan of his work both inside and outside the _Prophet_ and owned several of his coffee table books. Did he know that Colin had taken the photograph that had been worked into Dean's painting? No, he did not, but the quality of the work did not suprise him. Did he know who the girl in the photo was?

At that, Blaise blushed and wished he hadn't sounded, in response to her inquiries, so formal and so dull. She paused, looked away, and then opened his book to sign it.

"Would you like me to write anything specific?" She asked, and for the first time, her voice sounded real to him.

Unfortunately, his could not do the same to his ears. To a very big and curious fan.

Her quill was quick, and she looked up, studying his face. "I have to say, I was expecting a little more from you."

With that, the filthy wench tried to get away with a poignant exit. She had been Draco's lover for too long. Blaise caught up to her, and finally he heard himself speak.

"What do you mean?" His eyes searched her and she made a curious little simper, something he could not stand with her reply.

"I thought you'd amount to something a little less...meaningless." She said finally, her simper fading into a look of pity. Blaise's face hardened. What the fuck did she know? He swallowed, hard. He bid her a polite goodbye and stalked back to the signing table to fetch his book.

He didn't understand it all. But he was going to.

To be continued...

* * *

_I will take you as you are  
Please accept me as I am  
Find your lonely life bizarre  
Know it's above you, I know it's below me  
I will take you as you are  
Please accept me as I am  
There'll be something in the wind  
To show us we're right and tell us we're wrong  
I want to move on _

Above You Below Me -Badly Drawn Boy


	2. two

Disclaimer: None mine. This was also written originally pre-HBP, so take a few inconsistencies with a little slack, please… it's slightly AU.

* * *

**Serpents in Eden**

It was key for Candace not to alert the Slytherins that she was now aware of what damage they had done to her reputation, her relationships, to her personality, her habits. She'd noted how most of them seemed to be on mood and sense enhancers to get them through the day. That was the last thing she needed now, on top of her penchant for Firewhiskey.

Her pained eyes fell on Xavier, the forgotten friend of Tyrone. He was spaced out, as usual. He was always on something that made him just alert enough to function, but otherwise, too numb to feel.

She longed for that.

And all at the same time, she didn't.

Candace changed her mind just then. She was not only going to leave the Slytherins' lifestyle behind, but she was going to kick all of what they'd done to her out of her system. Who did she think she was, running with a crowd of kids too wealthy for their own good and too snotty for even her own brother?

She looked back to Xavier and he turned his head and almost smiled at her.

Candace knew that she would be almost smiling for the rest of her time at Hogwarts.

And she wouldn't have to a pay a Knut for it.

* * *

**_Blaise's Apartment_**

****

Blaise scribbled some notes. This was the fourth time he'd read the turning point of Ginny's novel, and every time, even from his very objective journalistic point of view, her description of his alter ego haunted him.

"Blaise, darling, you need to start getting ready." Blaise's fiancée's voice floated in from the other room, shaking him from his thoughts.

"Alright, dear." He replied. Blaise quietly made his way to his bathroom and while he was shaving, he started to think about how he had come to be engaged to Tracey.

Blaise had grown up down the street from the Davis sisters. They were all beauties, for the most part. That ideal would seem so flawed to him, in the small but aristocratic St. George's Hotel, attending primary with the four. All of them had been in the same league together, he supposed. The Davises and Blaise weren't _very_ wealthy but they were purebloods. They'd never really known much about each other, but had always been friends.

Elizabeth was the eldest, but they all called her Liz, when she would allow them to. She was glacially confident. She was now married to the former Slytherin Quidditch team member Terrence Higgs.

Bonnie was cute with a toothy smile. She was the fleshiest of the sisters, and she had a penchant for color-coordinating everything. She was sweet, but only in a servile sort of way. She'd been the only Hufflepuff of the lot. Bonnie was engaged to Carlton Warrington.

Next came Emily, who'd graduated Hogwarts in Blaise and Tracey's fifth year. Emily had been the sultry flirt, with a fiery, tempestuous nature, and perhaps that mischief and cunning was what made her so attractive. Rumor had it that it was she who had taught Blaise and Draco everything they knew about women (gentlemen never told, but at the time Draco wasn't a gentleman and had confirmed his end of it), and the only man brave enough to try and tame her that she would pay any mind to was Adrian Pucey, although, Blaise had warned her in the shadows of the Zabini penthouse, that she had better not toy with him too much and either declare herself his or find a really clever way of avoiding his wrath during a split.

Although others remarked on the second youngest, Theresa, otherwise known as Tracey's, looks, Blaise couldn't see it. She had flaxen hair and blue eyes and brown skin, but otherwise, had the cool eyes of Liz; the cute cheeks of Bonnie, and Emily's flirtatious smile. No one could describe Tracey without alluding to one of her sisters and perhaps, since Blaise knew her sisters all too well, that was the problem.

Tracey and Blaise dated for a year at Hogwarts, but it had been a particularly difficult year for everyone. Tracey was by no means ugly; a Davis couldn't be. She had startling eyes and delicate features. She was beautifully pallid and her hair was dramatically dark. Blaise pegged it down to two things that made him wonder why he'd ever stuck with her. One was definitely that her grades had progressively slipped from high to average, something Blaise credited to Tracey's growing awareness that she was beautiful enough not to have to be intelligent. The second was that Tracey very rarely smiled, and even Blaise and Draco smiled.

As Blaise finished his sleeves with French cuff links, Tracey entered, wearing a sour expression and a bright red dress. Blaise unnoticeably winced. Bright red never complimented Tracey's coloring, and yet she usually insisted on wearing it when she wanted the attention of everyone in the room. Tonight, this maneuver seemed a little superfluous as the event they would be attending would be her birthday party.

"Blaise, I told you to wear the dark red shirt." Tracey impatiently motioned to her own dress, implying that she had wanted them to match.

Blaise had to force himself not to roll his eyes. "I forgot."

Tracey muttered something under her breath before spitting, "Well, it's too late now. Just… I guess throw on the navy dress robes."

"I was going to." His eyes narrowed, but he wasn't going to pick a fight with Tracey, especially not on the evening of her birthday party.

"You're impossible, do you know that?" Tracey snapped. "I ask you to do one little thing…"

Tracey started digging through her jewelry box and when she got to the compartment that held her engagement ring, she suddenly stopped and a dreamy expression fixed itself on her features. Blaise swore some evenings he even heard her sing a lullaby to it.

Blaise tapped his foot, hoping the evening would be over soon.

* * *

**_Witch Weekly's Birthday Party for Tracey_**

Blaise plastered a smile on his face as Tracey cooed and oohed and ahed excitedly as the festivities, organized by _Witch Weekly_, unfolded before her. She clutched to him and nagged at him quietly in every spare moment. Before long, she waved him off as she always did. Blaise gravitated towards the menfolk, as he always did.

Draco stood there among them, turning to him with a smile and an odd sort of sympathy that only years of practice had taught Blaise to recognize. "You didn't coordinate tonight?" He asked quietly, blocking off the group's conversation.

Blaise shrugged. "I forgot."

A more recognizable look of empathy flashed in Draco's eyes. Blaise forced a manlier smile. "Which of your lovely ladies are you here with this evening?"

"Well, Edina's with her husband tonight, so she asked me to escort Cherish. I was more than happy to oblige." Draco grinned, pleased at Blaise's willingness to change the subject to more pleasant topics.

But then he frowned again, when he remembered who was here this evening.

"I thought I should inform you that your crush is here." Draco grumbled. Blaise searched the room for anyone who could match that description when finally his eyes fell upon Ginny Weasley, who was standing with Pansy Parkinson and Jenn Sweet in a corner. "My most toxic exes are in cohorts."

"Hardly." Blaise replied. Draco handed him a glass of champagne. "Look at how bored Weasley looks."

Ginny did indeed look desperate to talk to somebody else. She was tapping her foot, one of her arms was flung across her chest and her other arm propped up on it, clutching a glass of champagne. Her hip was jutted out to one side and she looked terrifically bored.

"Go entertain her, then." Draco sniffed, frowning jealously.

"Oh, please, as if you didn't have your choice of the girls here to shag in the coat closet." Blaise muttered, and Draco's eyes brightened a bit.

"Excellent point, _mon frer_… Ooooh, Lorelei." Draco slinked off in the direction of his former housemate, Lorelei Holiday.

Blaise casually took his departure from the fellows after nodding at them in acknowledgement.

Ginny seemed to have freed herself from Pansy's social clutches long enough to admire the view from the floor to ceiling windows opened out onto the summer veranda.

Blaise took her in, a vision in gold-embroidered white. She was embellished enough not to look bridal, but easily she was the most glowing person in the room. He casually strode up to her after that, and at first, she merely turned her head just slightly to acknowledge his presence.

"Is Draco upset that I'm here?" She asked, but she didn't seem that concerned.

"Not particularly. He's trying to amuse himself now, I think." Both Blaise and Ginny looked back in the direction of Cherish, who had gotten absorbed into a conversation with Daphne, Tracey, and Pansy, and then to Draco, who was whispering into the willing Lorelei Holiday's ear.

"I see things haven't changed much." Ginny said solemnly, her eyes twinkling paradoxically.

"No, not much." Blaise's eyes rested on Tracey once more, and she only glowered at him for a minute before returning to chatter with the girls.

"I thought you said you weren't dating her anymore." Ginny said, her eyes flickering up and down the curves of Blaise's face, studying him with a pursed grin.

"No, you asked if I was still dating her, and I said not really. I'm not really dating her since… since we're engaged." Blaise felt his collar getting tight, and he gulped down a half-glass of champagne.

Ginny's eyes darted to the frowning Davis girl, whose sparkling left hand clutched a glass of champagne.

"Ah." Ginny sipped her own glass. "Nice ring."

"Thank you." Blaise found himself getting a little braver, and he this time looked down into Ginny's eyes.

"Red… is really not her color." Ginny tried not to smirk as she raised her eyebrows and cocked her head to one side.

Blaise withdrew his lower lip to keep from laughing. "No, I never thought so either. But, she insists."

Ginny laughed an evil little laugh, though her behavior was beginning to startle her. With Blaise she found herself in a routine she remembered so well from her most dangerous years… but with Blaise there was, as there had always been, a safety in their candid but shallow conversations.

Blaise inhaled sharply. "I was supposed to wear dark red tonight, to coordinate."

"And you thought it was too cheesy?" Ginny looked mildly impressed and let her lips start to part into a genuine and amused smile.

"Well, that and I forgot." Blaise grinned. "Honestly, I forgot. But when the missus reminded me, I was reminded of the cheesiness."

Ginny's eyes twinkled with that silent, safe laughter she remembered. "So, when's the wedding?"

"Good question." Tracey's voice could've frozen the Equator. "Blaise, who _is_ your lovely friend?"

Instantly, Blaise and Ginny's face's fell. Ginny was surprised they'd both let that show. Then again, Ginny was also surprised how quickly she'd let her guard down.

"Tracey, darling, this is Ginny Weasley. She went to school with us, a year below? She wrote—" Blaise trailed off because Tracey's most sinister smile spread across her face.

"Serpents in Eden. Delightful book." The corners of Blaise's eyes crinkled, though he did not smile. Tracey had read no more than the back of the book jacket. Ginny watched his reaction carefully and feigned appreciation.

"Oh, did you like it? I thought some of the characterizations of the women were a little weak, but I guess I never had much of an example to go on." Coolly, Ginny sipped her champagne, punctuating her subtle insult.

"Oh." Tracey didn't have much of a reply. Fortunately, she did not need one, as the flamboyant entrance of her sister drew attention away from everybody.

"Theresa, darling!" Emily's voice sparkled with a new accent. Blaise struggled to remember whether or not she'd been in Russia or Spain for the past few months. "_Felice cumpleaños_!"

Spain, clearly.

Tracey inhaled sharply, and Ginny stared at her intently. Somehow, from this older, wiser point of view, she was suddenly able to see all of the little fidgeting and insecurities the Slytherins possessed. She tried not to laugh at the timing of this discovery.

"Emily?" Tracey feigned happy surprise. "I never expected you to return from Russia early, especially for little old me!"

"Well, I didn't return from Russia since I've come from Spain! _OLÉ_!" Emily snapped her fingers over her head, her arm arching beautifully. Her entourage flooded into the room, and she pulled her mink stole closer to her body, flickering one half over her shoulder delicately as she walked towards her little sister.

Blaise hid his laughter behind a hand simulating shock. Emily had always been a character.

"Don't tell me…" Emily said dramatically in a stage whisper to Tracey, staring straight at Ginny, "That you know Ginevra Weasley!"

Tracey, frozen, nodded dumbly and Emily rushed Ginny into an embrace. "I'm so excited to meet you! I _adore_ your book. So realistic!"

Ginny's mouth, open went through a variety of somersaults before she settled on a demure, appreciative smile. "Oh, thank you."

"Oh, Morgana!" Emily cursed, "I've forgotten to introduce myself and now you looked about as frightened as you ought to because some bumbling brunette has just bombarded you!"

Blaise coughed to conceal the rising volume of the laughter in his throat.

"My name is Emily Davis, I'm Tracey's older sister. Very old friend of Blaise's. You do know Blaise of course." Emily's eyes sparkled. "When I read the Spanish translation…"

"They've translated it into Spanish already?" Ginny looked surprised and mildly impressed.

Blaise overlapped, "You can read Spanish?"

Emily disregarded all interruptions, as she was accustomed to doing. "I said to myself, 'My, that is a _beautiful_ book. I bet it's better in English, though.' So I rushed home in time for my darling little sister's birthday and to pick up a copy before I go to Greece."

"Greece?" Tracey asked, finally adding to the conversation.

"I love it. I love it!" Emily exclaimed, her hands dancing like birds. "Oh, and you look… you look fabulous. As fabulous as your book. Really, you do."

Tracey awkwardly jutted out her chest to draw attention to her own ensemble.

Emily took notice of this and frowned in a much, much more delicate sort of way. Very quietly she said, "Red, Tracey? Really?"

Blaise burst into a coughing fit.

Later, with Tracey hyperventilating in the bathroom surrounded by her girlfriends, Emily and Blaise were able to catch up, much to the amusement of their audience and third party, Ginny.

"Goodness, what are you feeding her, Blaise? She looks sick! Maybe all that diamond-lugging is taking its toll on her." Emily had a point; Tracey did look paler than usual. But Blaise didn't give it much thought, and even if he had, he didn't like to talk to Tracey about anything. "I mean, she's even losing grip on her coordination. Look at you in blue and her in red!"

Emily's sharp sarcasm was duly noted, and Blaise smirked. "You are so cruel to her, you know." Blaise murmured. "To this day, your mere name makes her jump out of her skin."

Emily smiled with satisfaction. "If ever anybody tries to convince you that siblings don't compete with one another, take Theresa and I as your evidence for rebuttal." Emily turned to Ginny then with renewed interest. "Speaking of, darling, aren't you the youngest of seven?"

Ginny nodded. "And the _only_ girl."

Emily smiled at her sympathetically. "I hear you're upsetting quite a few people, my dear. Good for you. It's about time they stopped acting like their parents."

"Oh, the ones that annoy you most, Emily, aren't the ones so clever as to be annoyed by Ginny's book." Blaise corrected fondly. "If anybody is in a tizzy, it's Draco."

Emily's eyes lit up affectionately. "Oh, Draco! I saw him cuddling up to Lorelei Holiday earlier tonight. How's he doing?"

"Well enough." Blaise didn't indulge, but Ginny noticed the slight twitches that made for silent communication. Emily changed the subject.

"Why aren't you marrying me, Blaise, dear?" Emily fluttered her lashes dramatically, and Blaise laughed heartily. Ginny stealthily looked around for the crowd's general reaction to the outburst, but it seemed as though with Emily, there was an immunity to faux pas. If anybody were paying attention, they were amusedly fascinated with the three.

"You aren't the marrying kind, Emily." Blaise told her, placing his hand over hers affectionately.

"That's what I keep trying to tell Adrian, but he insists. I insist that we skip the ceremony and go honeymooning now." Emily's features were set dreamily and she closed her eyes, welcoming back the beautiful Spanish sunshine and lazy afternoons.

"I always imagined being married to someone I could be quiet with." Blaise said after a moment, breaking Emily's reverie and absorbing Ginny's attention suddenly. "Someone I could whisper with without feeling rude. Do you know what I mean?"

Turning to Ginny, Emily smirked. "He's reminiscing about his days with me."

Emily shouldn't have been so sure about herself, Ginny thought, for just moments before she came in, it had been Ginny who had been joking snidely with Blaise, basking in a comfortable quiet.

Blaise smiled at Ginny across the table, thinking the same thing.

Emily's eyebrows rose after she departed from her self-absorption. "Blaise, darling, maybe Tracey ought to go home. She's lost all hope of composure."

Blaise shook his head, in an attempt to shake the pleasantness of his earlier conversation with Ginny out of his mind. His eye caught on Draco's wide ones. Draco's lips were on Lorelei's ear, but his pupils seemed to be darting between Blaise's table and the exit from the ladies' room.

Blaise followed the gaze to the latter location to see Tracey trying and failing to look calm and collected.

"Oh." Blaise said quietly. "Excuse me."

Blaise instantly turned on his romantic charm. If anybody was going to take the blame for this evening being destroyed, he wanted it to be Emily. Because in that case, Tracey would only look slightly ridiculous for being so jealous of her older sister.

But his hope was fruitless. Yes, he certainly charmed her into leaving early, and yes, he certainly made himself look romantic. But the events of the evening had time to boil into the minds of everyone there, and the whispers erupted as he and Tracey disappeared.

Ginny tried not to blush, and then Emily's entourage absorbed the table and gave her enough coverage to let go. But when she slipped into her cloak that evening, the look on Tracey's face was still on her mind.

* * *

**_Back at Blaise's_**

"This is just like her, showing me up." Tracey grumbled. "And it certainly didn't look very good that you were so kind to her afterwards."

"Was I supposed to ignore her?" Blaise replied, a little harsher than usual, because this time he was actually invested in the conversation.

"Well, you certainly weren't supposed to be engaged in conversation with her and that Ginny Weasley!" Tracey's voice was starting to become shrill and Blaise was having none of it.

"What did you want me to do, Tracey?" Blaise demanded. "Did you want me to go into the powder room with you and hear you attack your sister and some girl you barely know? Because I like to pretend you don't do that. I do."

"Am I supposed to be happy that you enjoy yourself without me?" Tracey was ripping at the fastenings of her robe like a madwoman.

"You're beginning to sound ridiculous!" Blaise was lying; she always sounded ridiculous. Tonight was just especially laughable. "Where are you going with this?"

"I'm an engaged woman, Blaise! And what have I got to show for it?" Tracey shrieked. Blaise's eyes didn't ignite.

"What have you got to show for it?" Blaise's jaw was set hard, and Tracey, scared but not wanting to show it, took a step backward. "You live in my penthouse rent-free, you're wearing a devastating engagement ring worth nearly fifty two hundred Galleons, you don't have to work for a living, and perhaps this is the most meaningless part of all, you've got me."

"Have I?" Tracey asked coolly, cocking an eyebrow upwards. "You seem to be awfully enamored with that Weasley girl."

"Her book is my paycheck for the next month, Trace!" Blaise shouted. "Maybe you don't understand the idea of getting absorbed into work, but some of us have to."

"Set the date, Blaise, please!" Tracey pleaded. "Please! The girls think I'm ridiculous for letting you put this off!"

"The girls?" Blaise laughed bitterly. "Let's see, Pansy's divorced, Daphne's husband is off in France with a variety of young lovers, and Bullstrode—when was the last time a male looked her way? What is it about women who don't have to work for a living that absorbs all of their logic?"

"Is this what it's going to be, Blaise? Are you always going to ridicule me for being house-bound?" Tracey's voice and lower lip quivered.

"House-bound? That implies that I'm putting you here!" Blaise exploded. "You like your idle days of reading Witch Weekly and planning outfits and not only do you not care where the money's coming from, but you attack me for it."

Blaise whipped his wand out and Tracey stumbled backwards into a chair in fear.

Blaise started summoning a trunk and clothing and his bathroom things.

"What are you doing?" Tracey asked, eyes wide.

"I'm going to a hotel. You're driving me crazy." Calmly shutting his trunk, he pointed his wand at the fire and ignited the flames. "Owl me when you've regained your sanity."

With that and a toss of Floo Powder, he was gone.

* * *

**_Ginny's Apartment_**

"So… last night was interesting." Jenn commented over coffee, her pitch especially high.

"I still don't know what to make of it." Ginny said tiredly. The pair sat on the balcony of Ginny's apartment, looking out onto the summer morning.

"Blaise's moved out of his penthouse with Tracey." Jenn added lightly and Ginny's eyes widened.

"How do you know?" Ginny asked, horrified.

"It was in _Witch Weekly_ this morning. Something about the humiliating arrival of Tracey's sister, Blaise's conversations with you and Emily, and then Tracey throwing a fit about the wedding… he checked into the St. George late last night."

Ginny remembered her sixth year, when both Blaise and Ginny stood on the platform at King's Cross. Loudly, Draco made fun of Blaise for waiting on a wizard's cab headed for a penthouse in the St. George, bound to be empty since Blaise's golddigging mother didn't have a calendar.

"Oh." Ginny said quietly. She looked back into her apartment, where her summer dress robes hung over her dress that she'd worn last night.

"Please don't blame yourself, Ginny. They've been on the fray forever." Jenn promised.

"How do you know?" Ginny found herself repeating, her brow furrowing.

"I _have_ to read _Witch Weekly_ for reviews." Jenn explained. She sighed deeply. "Sometimes I think _Witch Weekly_ throws these socialite parties to create drama to analyze in their issues."

Ginny snorted. "Wouldn't be surprised."

"Look, Ginny, I hate to sound cold, because I _am_ your friend." Jenn began, "But this is all really great publicity for your book. It heightens the controversy about the reality of its content."

Ginny sighed. "I know…but I wish it weren't so… emotionally costly."

Jenn cocked her head to one side, taking in Ginny's face for a few concentrated moments. "Why do you care so much?"

Ginny shook her head and took a big gulp of coffee. The heat seared her throat but prompted her courage. "I always thought… if Blaise stopped using… he'd have the most potential. And I saw, at the signing, that even though he clearly wasn't using anymore, he never lived up to it. He leads such a miserable life and I'd like… not to contribute to that."

"Miserable?" Jenn demanded confusedly. "He's fairly wealthy, all things considered, and he's marrying into a prominent, beautiful family."

"And look how happy it makes him! Did you see him when he came in with her last night? She was bitching at him and he was so numb… Why should he have to go through that? For what?" Ginny retorted hotly. "He deserves better, not just from her, but from himself. Sometimes I wonder whether or not he'd be happier teaching at Hogwarts, living a quiet life."

"Well…" Jenn started reluctantly. "Clearly he doesn't want that."

"Doesn't he?" Ginny muttered in an aside.

"I thought…. After Hogwarts… that you'd stop obsessing about the Slytherins." Jenn continued. "I thought that was over."

Ginny sighed. "I guess my obsession is innate… my brothers, and Harry… but it just took on a different form I guess… because I actually got involved…"

_Tom_.

"I guess." Jenn replied softly. "Just… don't get yourself too worked up. Ride the waves of your success, rake in your money, and see if things haven't sorted themselves out after that."

Ginny nodded, although she felt inclined to disagree. In the distance, she could see the regal, pointed railings of the St. George Hotel, and her heart fell to her stomach again.

* * *

**_At the St. George Hotel_**

Draco entered Blaise's room tentatively, seeing already that the living space was covered in pages of Blaise's notes and work. He headed straight for the mini-bar, withdrawing a mixed drink. It was a combination of butterbeer and Firewhiskey, which was an old standby from their days as kids when Draco would visit Blaise at the St. George.

Draco frowned with sincere concern. "Are you sure you should be doing this right now?"

Blaise didn't look up from his work. "Someone needs to pay for this suite." Continuing to scan the pages of the book for any missed details, Blaise waved a hand at the mixed drink in Draco's hand. "Especially since you're running it up right now."

Draco bit his lip. It had been so long since he had been in the position to give Blaise advice; it was usually the other way around. And Draco didn't have any of his own wild antics to counter, a luxury he had always provided for Blaise. Blaise was the picture of passive aggressive calmness, and as he was currently in a state of passiveness, Draco was finding it difficult to approach the delicate subject he'd intended on discussing.

"Oh, you might as well own a suite in the St. George after all those years your mother camped out here." Draco took a stab in the passive direction as well. "Besides, don't you have some major decisions to be making right about now?"

Blaise looked up, finally. "That's not why I'm here." He said monotonously. "I'm here because Tracey is mad jealous about this whole book and I _need_ to finish my work on it."

"Right, and you aren't breaking up." Draco tried to prevent the sarcasm from infiltrating his tone, and it nearly worked.

"Draco, it's about time you stopped reading _Witch Weekly_. It was cute when we needed advice on girls, but now it's starting to skeeve me out." Blaise retorted hotly. "And if you're going to be a distraction, you might as well leave."

Draco bit his lip angrily, trying to hold back a venomous reply. He nearly succeeded. "You know, you're old enough to know that the years you've spent with Tracey are worth far more than a passing amusement or two."

Blaise rolled his eyes. "Not you too."

"I mean it, Blaise." Draco said solemnly. "Emily is great fun, but she's Pucey's, and I'd hate to see you waste a perfectly good excuse on something so fruitless. As for Weasley…"

"What, Draco? As the genuinely _most_ informed idiot musing on the subject, please, tell me your opinion about Weasley." Blaise spat, collecting and arranging his notes.

There was a long pause as Draco, his bottom lip nearly bleeding he'd bitten it so many times, tried to search for the most polite and honest way to say things. "If you're going to pursue her, you need to be available. Those Gryffs like their nobility, and Weasley has all too famously abandoned hers once. She'll not do it again."

Blaise sighed. "I've no intention of pursuing Weasley." Blaise's eyes met Draco's. "Not yet, anyway. I mean, what do I know about the girl, other than we've been able to mysteriously maintain, over the years, our comfortable conversations?"

"Well, that and she's beautiful, even I'll admit that. And she's increasingly wealthy… and right now, she's in the circle, until those daft birds figure out what she's talking about in that glamorous little novel of hers." Draco tried not to grin. "Even I can see her many attractive qualities, even though I'd be an idiot to act on impulse. On the other hand, one other striking young man of considerable name seems to be about in the position to."

Blaise turned away from Draco, his brow furrowed in thought.

"I'll leave you to your work." Draco dug into his pocket, checking the price on the side of his mixer. He threw down two Sickles on the table.

"Thanks." Blaise said almost so quietly Draco barely heard him.

"You're welcome."

* * *

_Well I haven't see you in awhile  
you know I, I miss our talks I miss your smile  
cause the look of innocence is priceless  
but right now you look so lifeless_

"Song for the Rich"- Tristan Prettyman


	3. three

Ginny sat dully in front of her mirror in the bridal suite of the St. George Hotel. There she was being prepared by stylists hired by her publishers as to make the best impression—for a radio interview.

"The irony's not lost on us, Ginny." Megan said irritably, licking her thumb and brushing that one wisp too many out of Ginny's face.

Her hair was softly pulled into a ponytail of tendrils, aiming for a romantic but professional look. When the stylist told her that, Ginny couldn't help but roll her eyes.

Jenn came in, a clipboard in hand, flipping through pages and pages of guest names. "I'm warning you, _Witch Weekly_ is sending one of their teen correspondents for their young people section… On top of that, Pansy Parkinson is still coming. Oh, and Blaise Zabini is sending an envoy with his questions for the _Prophet_, and he apologizes for the amount of the questions. The publishers have arranged for his Hogwarts interview at a later date… and he sent some flowers."

Ginny's brow furrowed, irritating the make-up artist. "Why isn't he coming?"

"He sends his deepest apologies." Jenn skirted around the subject. "And the bouquet is fabulous—orchids sent in a blue Faberge vase…"

"Jenn!" Ginny turned to her, eyes flashing. "You _know_ I don't read the press anymore so I need you to tell me the truth."

Jenn's face fell. "If this affects your PR, so help me Merlin…" Ginny's eyes narrowed even more and Jenn immediately answered her. "He's at his family estate in Hever. The Howards seem to be having a family meeting."

Ginny's brow furrowed further. "The Howards?"

"His mother is a Howard… which at the time of King Henry VIII, were a very powerful family, along with the Boleyns…"

"Yes, yes, yes, Jenn, I know who the Howards are, they're one of the most ancient pureblood families in England." Ginny's face smoothed, although the corners of her mouth puckered in irritation. "I just didn't realize Blaise was one."

"Yes, the Italian surname can throw one off." Megan added, and both of them turned to her, eyebrows raised. "Oh, come on, let's get you ready."

* * *

_Miss Zara B. Howard cordially requests your presence at the Hever to celebrate her 21st birthday._

That's how this summer's hottest invitation begins. If you descend from the Round Table's Thirteen, you're more than likely to receive an invitation to the delightful American socialite's regal birthday party at the Howard family's pride and joy estate Hever. Rumor has it that certain Weasleys, despite being a banned branch of the Black family, have made it onto the guest list, that the ghosts of the two of the more infamous Howards, Queen Catherine and Queen Anne of the Boleyn branch, will appear, and that Howard heir Blaise Zabini will be pretending to get along with his estranged fiancée Theresa "Tracey" Davis. Only time (and Genealogy Times!) will tell.

* * *

Zara Beatrix Howard was the daughter of Mrs. Lavinia Zabini's brother Antony and his wife Adela, who was an American professor at the prestigious American wizarding prep school Andover Academy. Although brought up in America, Zara spent the coolest months of the summer in Italy with her grandparents and cousins, and the warmest months in England with the extended family. It was during these warm months that her birthday always fell, and thus, the festivities were held at Hever, the family's favorite estate. 

Zara's upbringing, like Blaise's, was rather lonely. Antony was a banker and was always away on business, and Adela was a professor at a school Zara eventually attended, and that was an additionally absorbing career. While Blaise found himself adopting an increasingly older and wealthier father every few months, Zara found herself passed around her American relations until it was her time to attend Andover.

Zara and Blaise had no other cousins in the immediate family, and when they were with their grandparents in Italy, they were inseparable, despite a seven-year age difference. They were quite an entertaining pair to look at. Zara's eyes were dark and deep-set, like the rest of the Howards, but they twinkled and glittered in a way Blaise's own dark pair never could've matched. Of course, Blaise was dark like his father, and Zara had inherited her mother's translucent skin and platinum hair. In Italy, Zara always burned and Blaise only deepened.

"What's a girl like you doing married to a man my age?" Draco whispered in Marguerite Devereux-Putnam's ear.

Zara sniffed contemptuously, and if Blaise didn't want to suggest it, he'd say that Zara was jealous of their second cousin.

Marguerite was dark and slinky, as were many witches of the French branch of the family. Furthermore, she was married to the eldest Putnam son, Thomas, who was Draco and Blaise's age. Marguerite was nineteen.

Blaise shoved his hands in his pockets, tilting coyishly on his heels to turn to Zara. "Zara… never let a man settle for you."

Zara frowned, but it took her a moment to roll her eyes. "I don't know what you're talking about."

Blaise smiled knowingly. "I'm sure you don't."

Zara's eyes narrowed as Blaise's beautiful mother and several other matriarchs in the family began wading through the party guests towards the castle.

"Showtime." She whispered to him. She slyly inched toward one of the residence's arches. "If they ask, I'm in the powder room."

Blaise's brow wrinkled, but he shrugged. He could feel Zara's gaze on him as he propped open a book. He'd let her have her secrets so long as she let him have his. He grinned as he felt the Howard eyes lift off him and his gaze rose to a new arrival at the party who he'd been watching since she'd broken into the throngs of guests—Ginny Weasley.

* * *

Draco Malfoy was also keeping an eye on Ginny Weasley. It was tragic, but the moment she didn't seem to be completely surrounded by adoring readers was the exact moment that Marguerite was going to succumb to his charms. 

There would have to be another time for that. After all, he had plenty of time before Marguerite would be old and wise enough to rebuff him the next few times around.

Draco would like to think he was looking rather cool and debonair as he casually jogged up to Ginny, but she wasn't impressed.

"So do you know the birthday girl?" She asked with a coy, pursed smile. "Or is she fortunate enough to have escaped your charms?"

Draco chuckled. "You're funny."

Ginny rolled her eyes but looked a little relieved. "I'm glad you're being civil. I don't know anyone here that I would actually want to talk to."

Draco pressed the palm of his hand under his clavicle. "I made the short list? I'm terribly flattered."

"I'm between a rock and a hard place, Draco, don't be." Ginny retorted, but she was smiling. "I thought your big plan was to unveil the nonfiction that my little success is based on. You're only encouraging my cover."

Draco's grin dropped a little bit, but Ginny was surprised that his face instead seemed concerned. "Gin… some people are going to be very upset when they figure it all out."

Ginny shrugged. "I can deal with Pansy Parkinson."

Draco frowned suddenly and looked at her in disgust. "Well, I know that. If anyone ever could, you could. I'm not talking about them. You always underestimate anything I have to say."

Draco began to sound shrill, which caused Ginny to raise her eyebrows. He must have understood what she meant by it, because his voice lowered to its normal octave.

"I mean the parents." Draco motioned to the older looking people milling about. "They expect their children to have the wonderful Hogwarts experience that they had. The traditional, pureblood, privileged experience."

Ginny didn't say anything. She didn't want to believe that her book would have such an effect. Then again, it was a different time now. McGonagall was in charge, and had she been all along, the events depicted in the book would never have happened.

Draco smiled at her softly, kissing her cheek. "I'm glad you're listening, even if it's only a little."

They waved goodbye and the birthday girl's young contemporaries once again rushed Ginny.

* * *

Blaise removed the Extendable Ear from his. He didn't have much time to think about the exchange between the pair when Zara came rushing up to him, smoothing her hair and commanding that he pretend that she'd been there the entire time. 

Their female relatives spilled out of the castle and Blaise watched them blend into the crowd, and he turned with a grin to his cousin, who was not looking very pleased.

"You're not to be seen out of Tracey's company unless you are with a family member. This is to be your protocol until the formal decision's been made." Zara recited, her eyes rolling towards the ceiling as she tried to remember word for word what was said.

"And did Tracey agree to this?" Blaise asked calmly.

"Yes." Zara bit her lip for just a second, well aware that hawks were peeping in on her private conversation with her cousin. "You're about to be the head of the family, Blaise, upon your marriage—"

"Oh, Grandmamma will never forfeit that title." Blaise scoffed quietly and Zara shot him a look.

"At least in name. And name is what counts to them." She motioned to all the eyes poking through the crevices surrounding them. "They want you to set an example."

Zara placed her hand in the crook of Blaise's unbent arm, forcing him to fold it. She led him outside unexpectedly, forcing their nosy guests to scatter. Without much physical indication, Zara drew his attention to the Putnam brood. They were a large American branch of the family. The matriarch, Alexandrina, was clearly more in charge than her husband, Albert. Albert was something of a recluse, and he buried himself in the family's variety of businesses on which they built their fortunes. Alexandrina; however, made all of the family's social decisions. They had nine children, five girls and four boys.

"Take a look at the Putnams." Said Zara. Alexandrina was currently lecturing the youngest Putnam, a fourteen-year-old witch known as Genie. "I love them dearly, Blaise, you must know. After all, they raised me."

Blaise remembered an awful spring holiday visit to Zara in the Putnam house. Although the ages of the children spanned over sixteen years, he found the place too crowded for his taste.

"But they rely on Grandmamma Howard to make their connections because Alexandrina has insisted on being in charge." Zara turned to Blaise, taking both of his hands in hers. "Please, Blaise, if not for the whole family, but for me… at least listen to Grandmamma now. You can do as you wish once you know exactly what that is—but please…"

There was a long pause. Blaise calmly settled into an amused face, as though their talk had been merely gossip. Zara followed suit.

"I really don't know where you get off telling me about socialization. You had a lake between you and the boys' school." Blaise teased his cousin.

Zara frowned. "And the entire time, they were trying to get us married off, so I know something about being forced to socialize."

Blaise squeezed Zara's shoulder affectionately. "Of course you do."

Zara looked up at her dark cousin with wide, naïve eyes. "The meeting was entirely about you, you know."

Blaise nodded.

"They told me to keep you company, but I let you read your book while I eavesdropped." Zara tread carefully, for she knew her dearest cousin was a fan of protocol.

Blaise turned his head and kissed Zara's temple firmly. "You are forever taking care of me."

Zara glared contemptuously in Tracey's direction. "Somebody ought to be."

"Be a little more subtle, darling." Blaise whispered against her forehead.

Zara's legendarily cool Howard demeanor started to break, and he could feel her face burst. Blaise pulled her into a friendly, congratulatory birthday hug, and the front of his robes grew warm and moist. He clutched her so tightly no one saw her shake. He leaned his majestic head so his face was buried in her hair, as his own composure was threatened. "You don't want me to do this."

She shook her head, trying to laugh. "No, I don't."

"Then don't make me. Please don't make me." He pleaded quietly and the weakness in his voice sobered Zara almost instantly. She looked up at him, eyes wide.

"But you have to."

Blaise's posture grew rigid and his face went completely blank. He pulled away from Zara quickly and disappeared into the crowd.

* * *

"Ms. Weasley." A dramatic, accented voice whispered, shooing away all the fans, and Ginny found herself looking down at a short but imposing woman whose cheekbones she'd seen briefly in the birthday girl and familiarly in Blaise. 

"Good afternoon, Mrs. Howard." Ginny's lips spread into an amused, tight smile. "Hever is lovelier than all the photographs."

The stately woman didn't look surprised. "Yes, I was never impressed with the supposed art of photography. I have a rare Hans Hoblein—he did portraits you know—landscape of the place that is absolutely marvelous. Now that is art."

Mrs. Howard led her way from the guests and although she wouldn't like to admit it, Ginny found she was reaching for her wand, just in case she needed to send up emergency sparks.

"I understand you've written a very popular book." Mrs. Howard said with what sounded like minimal interest. "I believe some of my own family members have attempted to dabble at writing, with limited success, despite all our help, so congratulations to you."

Ginny nodded graciously. "Thank you very much."

"It is a shame; however, that I'm to understand what your little book will do to the way Hogwarts is run." Mrs. Howard added loftily. "I was expecting all of my grandchildren to live in the luxury we had accustomed them to. And so, I believe, were many of my friends. They have grandchildren created on the prestigious traditions of centuries past."

Mrs. Howard's eyes scanned the length of Ginny's face, her features, as though wondering where all the pureblood had gone. Ginny felt like she'd just been slapped. She understood Mrs. Howard's meaning perfectly.

With that, Mrs. Howard patted Ginny on the hand. "Let's hope your book doesn't get too popular for its own good, shall we?"

Ginny nodded, tight-lipped.

* * *

As Blaise was stalking away from Zara, he found himself pulled into a dark cavern he hadn't even known existed beneath a knoll. 

There he found Tracey, eyes wild, hair falling, desperate.

He opened his mouth to speak, but for some reason could not compel himself to. Tracey searched everything on his face for some sort of sign, and began to speak what felt like thousands of times before she mustered up the courage to. Her voice was soft, tentative, and almost invitingly pleading.

"Blaise, do you remember when the war began and all of those lofty numbers—those ages we'd set aside for marriage, children—all of a sudden everything changed. We'd thought 25 and 30 was so far away until we started to realize that it'd be a miracle if we made it that far." Tracey took a deep breath. "And then the war ended, and suddenly you weren't in a hurry to marry me anymore. We'd survived the worst."

"Tracey—" Blaise began, but she suddenly turned cold.

"You're marrying me, Blaise, you promised. And if the pressure from your family isn't enough, the lifeline you were so ungrateful to never want in the first place, I'll take away your other one." Tracey wiped the sweat from her brow with her forearm, smoothing her hair back into place and leading him to see his grandmother leaving Ginny Weasley, face stricken. "I will expose her. And your precious little study guide will be gone. Your precious little job will be gone by the time I'm done with you."

Blaise looked at her in disgust. Repulsion seeped from his pores and before long, with one last threatening look, Tracey returned to the party.

Blaise did not want to join his family, nor his friends of years, nor the acquaintances that merely were associated with him for his lineage. Instead, he found himself stealthily making his way towards Ginny Weasley, who was still reeling from her little visit with his grandmother.

"I know this is probably the worst time," He began before his bravery left him, and she looked up at him in wonder, brow furrowed, "But would you like to join me for dinner?"

In Blaise's periforal vision, he could see a female relative charging towards him, as though now the family could stop the damage from being done. Ginny followed his darting eyes, and in the process spotted Draco watching on knowingly. She turned back to Blaise, surprised that he had managed to do something impulsive.

"I thought you were half-dead before." She said quickly, lowering her eyelids before batting her lashes again to take in his entire face, which was absent of ulterior motive or bitter revenge. "Call 'round my place on Saturday."

With that, Ginny disappeared with a pop, and for the first time in a long time, a genuine smile graced Blaise Howard Zabini's features.

Very far away, a little girl of nineteen watched a young blonde man turn away with a foreboding disappointment, and her lower lip disappeared beneath a row of even white teeth. This was not going to be good for the family. Not at all.

* * *

And so I'm reaching out for the one  
And so I've learned the meaning of the sun  
And all this like a message comes to shift my point of view  
And watching it pull my own light as it tips a shade of you

-"Sleep" Azure Ray


End file.
